


Junior Year (or, the boarding school au only 1 person asked for)

by orphan_account



Category: Bandom, Cobra Starship, Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco, The Academy Is...
Genre: M/M, Nonbinary Character, Other, Trans Character, relationships/characters to be added as they appear
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-06
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-10-28 21:05:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10839435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Frank starts boarding school even though he doesn’t care about college; Gee is his aggressively nonbinary roommate; Ryan and Jon are the cute boys who live across the hall. It’s a pretty gay year.





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> honestly this was jst an excuse t take a break from th megafic im workin on which is 45-fuckin-thousand words rn

“You’ll have so much fun at boarding school!” Frank’s mom had said, helping stuff Frank’s clothes in a suitcase. “Everyone loves learning there! It’ll help prepare you better for college.” Which would be awesome if Frank actually cared about either of those things.

He didn’t get a say in it, though, which is why he’s here now, transferring into a boarding school mid-semester.

Frank is here on scholarship and, judging by the way everyone seems to be carrying themselves around campus, he’s the only one. He doesn’t know why his mom insisted on packing so many of his clothes, seeing as everyone has to wear the same uniform. It’s an ugly uniform, too; blue, black, and gold, which sounds wonderful, but definitely isn’t.

The kid who’s showing Frank around is a senior who made it very clear that she wasn’t happy about having to miss one of her many art classes just to take Frank to his room. He tries to make it obvious that he really doesn’t care, but in the end opts for tuning out her complaints and observing the grounds instead.

She eventually dumps him in front of a brick building that looks like all of the rest around campus, except the sign outside this one has something on it written in Latin. God, Frank hopes he isn’t expected to fucking understand Latin.

He pulls from his pocket the key that the headmaster handed him as soon as he’d arrived. She’d explained that it was Frank’s dorm key right after introducing herself. Frank’s been plagued with a horrible memory, though, and does not remember her name. He thinks it started with an L, but he isn’t sure.

Sure enough, the key unlocks the building. Frank pulls his suitcase through the door, which shuts with a loud, unintentional slam.

The building is silent.

Like the rest of the campus, Frank’s dormitory looks like it was built in the fucking nineteenth century. The carpet looks like it hasn’t been changed in years, and wood floor creaks noisily beneath his feet, and there’s a massive fireplace in what looks like a living room. God, if his mom was so dead set on sending him to boarding school, couldn’t she have at least picked one that was built in the last hundred years?

Frank looks down at the piece of paper attached to the key with his name and room number written on it.

5.

He doesn’t know how he’s supposed to even know what floor he’s meant to be on because the school insists on using an inconvenient numbering system. From outside, there looked to be four floors total, including the one Frank’s on now. Taking a deep breath, he picks up his suitcase and heads up the thin, creaky flight of stairs.

xxx

It turns out that Frank’s room is only on the second floor. A black number five is hanging lopsided on the face of a thick, reddish coloured door. There’s no paint, only solid wood. Or perhaps there was paint, and it just chipped and all fell off long before Frank arrived.

He doesn’t dwell on the thought too long and pushes the door open with his free hand. It creaks loudly, although not as loud as the floor does when Frank passes through the doorway hesitantly.

The room is decent sized, with two twins-zed beds pushed to opposite walls and two desks. It seems pretty barren other than that, spare a couple of posters for various bands hanging on the walls. Frank recognises none of them, but that’s probably because he skipped two grades and never really found time to broaden his musical horizons.

He doesn’t notice the person sitting on the other bed until Frank sets his suitcase down.

He’s eating fritos and watching YouTube videos on a laptop. The only thing Frank sees that isn’t socially acceptable is what the guy’s wearing. He’s wearing torn up skinny jeans (God, Frank hopes they weren’t pre-ripped), a fucking Avril Lavigne skull t-shirt, as though it’s 2007 or something, and short heeled boots with buckles and spikes. Frank kind of wants to die.

“Dude,” and the guy jumps, startled, pulls off his headphones and stares at Frank for a minute.

Frank stares back.

“Are you the new guy?” Avril Lavigne boy says. He doesn’t give Frank an opportunity to answer. “Shit, I didn’t think you were coming until dinner! I’m Gee, they and them pronouns.”

“If you don’t respect their pronouns, I’ll beat your ass!” someone yells from down the hallway, and Frank’s desire for death increases.

“I’m sorry about Pete,” Gee says. They stand up and brush Frito crumbs off of their legs. “He’s really loud. It’s nice to meet you! I haven’t had a roommate since eighth grade.” Gee smiles and extends their hand. Frank shakes it, a little awkwardly. “So, what do you think of Outré so far?”

“What do I think of what, now?” Frank asks, more than a little confused.

“Outré?” Gee repeats. “The, uh, the Academy? Where you are right now?”

Is the school called Outré? Frank can’t remember. That name is weird as hell, he sure hopes Gee isn’t referring to the school.

He realises that they’re waiting for an answer, and Frank stumbles over, “What the fuck does that even mean?”

“Oh, my God.” Gee looks mildly vexed. “You don’t know anything about this school, do you?” When Frank shakes his head because, yeah, he doesn’t know anything about where he is right now, Gee says, “This school is called Outré Academy. It was built in the late 1800s, and houses roughly 1200 students every year.” Frank nods to demonstrate that he’s following. “Are you seriously saying that you didn’t even know the name of this place, and you still decided to come?”

“To be fair, it was my mom’s idea.”

Again, Gee says, “Oh, my God. This is going to be so much harder than I thought.” They pause, then, “Who even showed you around?” Frank shrugs. “Fuck, I bet it was Crystal. She always does this.” Gee turns around and turns off their laptop with a sigh. “Come on. I’ll show you what you actually need to know, so you don’t get yourself lost trying to find classes.”

They leave the room quickly, Frank stumbling behind them. “Uh, speaking of classes,” he says, following Gee back down the stairs, “aren’t those kind of in session right now?”

Gee stops abruptly at the bottom, and Frank almost bumps into them. “Uh, yeah? Your point?”

“Why aren’t you there?” Frank asks, mimicking their tone. “Isn’t everyone here supposed to be in love with learning or something?”

Gee just shrugs and starts walking again. “I don’t know,” they say. “I just didn’t feel like going today. Ms Parson’s a bitch, and I didn’t do my English homework. But Ryan said he’d cover for me, so it’s fine, I won’t get detention or anything. Besides,” they say, pulling the front door open, “I wanted to have some quality alone-time before you showed up.” They shoot Frank a grin so he knows they’re only joking, but Frank still feels a little bad about interrupting Gee’s time to themself.

The first actually useful building Gee shows Frank is the mess hall, which (and, yes, he knows he wasn’t paying attention earlier) Crystal definitely neglected to show him. It’s much smaller than Frank expected, but Gee insists that on weekdays, everyone eats at the same time.

“On weekends, you either cook at home or order in,” they explain. “Breakfast and lunch is always available, but for dinner, you’re on your own.”

Frank lets Gee take him around campus for another hour, showing him the library and various buildings that house classrooms. They show him where all his classes will be according to his schedule, and Frank hopes to God that come tomorrow he’ll be able to find his way around.

Gee looks over Frank’s schedule again once they’ve shown him where the gym is and frowns. “You’re not taking any art classes?”

“Art’s not really my thing,” Frank says, and wow, it’s hot for October. “I’ve never really enjoyed it. Like, I know lots of colleges want you to have some experience in art shit, but I don’t really care about college.”

Gee nods in quiet agreement. “My parents really want my brother, Mikey, and I to get into good schools,” they say. “I know what I want to do and where I want to go, but Mikey really couldn’t care less. I think he just wants to get out of here as soon as possible.”

“Is it really that bad here?” Frank asks in a quiet voice.

“No,” Gee says, shaking their head. “The schools great, and for the most part, so are the people. I think it’s just the pressure from everyone to conform to something, and live up to expectations. Like, they’re kind of strict about failing classes. If you get too many Ds, they can kick you out.” Upon seeing Frank’s upset face, they continue, “Yeah, it’s bullshit, I know. I failed physics two years in a row. The only reason I’m still here is because my parents pay full tuition. I think Mr Preston just got tired of seeing me and gave me a passing grade last year, just between us.” They smile at Frank and push open the doors of the gymnasium that lead back outside. “If you really don’t like the people, at least the food is better than public school food.”

Frank hasn’t even had the food here yet, but he’s inclined to agree anyway, seeing as you really can’t get any lower than public school food. “What time are meals?” he asks, finally giving his rumbling stomach the attention it’s been asking for for the past half of an hour.

“Breakfast opens at eight, and classes start at nine-fifteen,” Gee says as they lead Frank down a path that Frank suspects leads back to their dorm. “Everyone eats lunch at twelve-thirty, unless you’re special and have a class that conflicts; then you get to eat whenever, really.” They pause. “Actually, I’m not sure. I’ve never had a conflicting class. But you don’t either, so it doesn’t matter. Dinner is from seven to eight-thirty, but the mess hall doesn’t officially close until nine, so you can always grab something if you’re late.”

“Good to know,” Frank says, although he doubts he’ll ever be late to dinner.

They continue walking in almost silence, Gee occasionally breaking it to point out a building or a person they pass. By the time they reach the brick building they’re supposed to sleep in, Frank’s sure he can name at least half of the teachers already.

Frank checks his phone while Gee fiddles with the lock on the door, and sees that it’s already five. Dinner isn’t for another three hours, and he didn’t bring any snacks with him, so he’s hoping the dorm at least has a kitchen with snacks.

Gee drops their key and swears under their breath. “What time is it?” When Frank gives them his answer, they groan. “God, I’m so sorry you have to meet everyone like this.”

Frank’s about to ask what exactly they mean, but then Gee turns the key in the lock and opens the door, and his question is answered for him.

Apparently boarding school kids are just as hectic as public school kids.

The dorm is loud, and when Frank follows Gee inside cautiously, he narrowly avoids getting hit in the head with a shoe. Frank risks a glance into the living room and almost gets hit by another, harder shoe, followed by someone yelling, “Who the fuck is that?”

“Hey!” Gee shouts, which thankfully shuts a few people up. “Why are y’all always so Goddamn loud?” After that, any who hadn’t shut up before stops talking. “This is Frank, he’s new, he got here, like, three hours ago. Can you stop being assholes for one minute so you don’t scare him away?”

Everyone is staring at Frank and Gee with wider eyes. Frank counts eleven pairs.

Finally, someone says, “I don’t even live here, why do I have to make a good impression?”

“Because, Brendon,” says the boy sitting next to him with a sigh, “you’re, like, an honorary member.” When the first boy - apparently Brendon - looks back at him confused, the second boy says, “You don’t live here, but you should.”

Brendon just nods, still looking a little confused, and then turns back to Frank.

“You’re all terrible at this,” Gee says. “This is Frank. He lives here now. The least you could do is introduce yourselves?”

They’re met by more silence. Then, after a moment, the boy next to Brendon says, “I’m Spencer. Sorry you almost got hit by a shoe - twice. Joe and Pete were in a heated argument about calculus or something.”

“Jon and I aren’t even in calculus,” says a boy with bleach-blond hair. Frank notes that he’s only wearing one shoe, and assumes that this must be Pete. “We were actually talking about good music, not that you’d know what that is, Spencer.”

The room slowly begins to descend into chaos once again as Spencer protests that Bullet For My Valentine are a great band. Frank watches as the only other boy with a single shoe on, presumably Jon, takes it off and aims it at Spencer.

“Oh, my God, let’s go,” Gee says from beside Frank and tugs him out of the room and into the kitchen.

There’s a stove and a fridge, and a multitude of cabinets. While the rest of the house seems outdated (except for the room Frank shares with Gee), the kitchen looks like it got remodeled yesterday, with stainless steel appliances and a clean hardwood floor. Gee opens one of the cabinets and offers Frank a bag of salt and vinegar chips.

Frank takes them, and his stomach growls again, much louder than it was before. Gee laughs. “Did you eat at all today?”

“I had two meals,” Frank says, and shoves four chips in his mouth at the same time. “But lunch was, like, five hours ago, and I’m a growing boy.” He swallows the chips and burps as though to prove his point.

Gee wrinkles their nose. “Wow, excuse you,” they say with a laugh. “Those are actually Pete’s, but he owes me for pretzels, so if he yells at you, just direct him to me.” They grab a bag of cheezits for themself and head towards the stairs. Frank hesitates for a moment, and then follows them up the steps.

“So, who sleeps in there?” Frank motions to the door across from theirs as Gee opens the door.

“Ryan and Jon,” Gee says, then, “They’re either super quiet or have no sex life, though, so you don’t have to worry about being kept up at night.”

Frank doesn’t know who ‘Ryan’ is, but he’s sure he’ll meet him sooner or later, especially if he’s sleeping right across the hall. “I didn’t know they were dating,” he says. Gee just nods and sits on their bed with their cheezits.

It’s almost five-thirty, so Frank decides to spend the next two and a half hours setting up his bed. The school provided him with sheets, pillows, and a duvet, but Frank brought a blanket from home, and the pillow he’s had for years which is, embarrassingly, a polar bear pillowpet. Thankfully, Gee just tells him that it’s cute and goes back to eating their cheezits and looking at something on their phone.

“Is there, like, an adult or something who stays here so we don’t destroy the dorm, or no?” Frank asks as he unfurls a blanket.

Gee shrugs. “Sort of? Mr Humphrey sleeps on the couch in the living room, but the only time he’s ever done anything was right after Brendon came out to us and kept sneaking inside. Girls aren’t allowed in boys’ dorms or whatever, but Brendon’s not a girl. Spence just explained the situation to Mr Humphrey, and he’s chill, so he didn’t care.”

It takes a minute for things to click. “Wait, did you just out someone to me?”

“No!” Gee responds immediately, almost choking on a cracker. “No, Brendon’s open about his gender to everyone except most of the teachers. I would never out somebody. Plus, you seemed pretty cool about my being nonbinary, so I thought you’d be alright with Brendon being a trans guy.” They narrow their eyes at Frank, eyebrows furrowing. “You are okay with that, right?”

Frank doesn’t hesitate, but he does stumble over his answer a little bit, saying, “Yeah, no, of course not, I couldn’t care less, really.”

This seems to be acceptable, because Gee says, “Good,” and goes back to their phone.

Frank looks at his own phone and frowns at the battery percentage. At this rate, it’ll be dead in, like, fifteen minutes. He gets his charger from his bag and locates an outlet, which is thankfully right next to the head of his bed.

He’s not sure what he expected from this place, really. Maybe some stuck up kids whose parents had a little too much money, or maybe to be thrown out after being on campus for only an hour. Instead, he’s on Wikipedia reading up on transphobia and nonbinary genders so that he doesn’t fuck up and lose his chances at making good friends.

It turns out that Wikipedia provides some pretty heavy reading, and before Frank knows it, Gee’s telling him that they should really head down to get some dinner before it’s all gone.

Today there is pasta for dinner. Frank’s a little hesitant, probably because he’s used to whatever the fuck they called pasta at his old school. This actually looks appetizing, though, and Frank ends up taking more than he knows he can eat.

“Usually we all eat together,” Gee tells him, motioning toward a table where more of the boys Frank had the misfortune of meeting earlier in the living room are sitting, “but you’re welcome to sit elsewhere, if you want to.”

Frank doesn’t even consider it, just follows Gee over toward the table.

He ends up squished between Spencer and an obnoxiously tall guy who’s name he has yet to catch. Brendon keeps stealing food off Spencer’s plate when he thinks he isn’t looking; the boy across from Frank is arguing with Tall Guy about dog breeds; someone at the opposite end of the table has a straw in his nostril, and Frank’s about eighty-two percent sure he’s trying to drink Dr Pepper through his nose.

After maybe thirty seconds of spacing out, Frank realises Spencer’s trying to talk to him.

“-here so far?” is all he manages to catch.

Instead of answering the question, Frank just turns to look at Spencer and asks, “Is that normal?” in reference to the Dr Pepper guy.

Spencer furrows his brows, and then sees what’s going on. “Uh, yeah, I’d say that’s pretty normal for Dallon,” he says.

Frank nods with a “Huh,” and tries to eat his pasta.

He’s interrupted after a few minutes by a fork reaching over from his right toward his plate. Spencer smacks the invading utensil away. “Brendon, you can’t just steal people’s food,” he says.

“I steal your food all the time,” Brendon argues, but puts his fork down. “Spence, he’s barely eaten anything, and I’m still hungry.”

“He doesn’t know you,” Spencer argues back, but Frank can tell they’re both messing around. “If you’re still hungry, get more. Or just have mine; I’m not hungry anymore, anyway.”

Brendon happily takes Spencer’s plate and finishes his pasta.

Frank wishes he could continue really eating, but now he’s too busy keeping both eyes open for any more offending forks that he can’t focus on actually getting food onto his fork and into his mouth. Which sucks, because Frank’s still really hungry.

“Nobody else would steal your food,” Tall Guy says, and Frank almost jumps, having forgotten he was there. “I’m Ray, by the way. I sleep with Spencer.”

“Room,” Brendon corrects. “You room with Spencer. Don’t fuck my boyfriend.”

“You would think we weren’t both polyamorous,” Spencer says dryly, and takes a sip of his water.

Frank is, once again, at a loss for words, so he just nods dumbly and actually starts eating again.

Ray doesn’t say anything else to him for the remainder of dinner, but Spencer and Brendon try endlessly to include Frank in their conversations. At one point, Brendon says, regarding the person next to him, “Oh, Frank, this is Patrick. He’s gay.”

“Name one person at this table who isn’t gay,” Patrick says. Apparently he says it loud enough for everyone to hear, because the table goes silent and everyone turns to look at Frank.

Frank’s never been in a situation before where he could really be out-out. His mom was nice enough and didn’t tell him he was wrong or heathenish, but he doesn’t have any non-heterosexual friends back home except James. “I’m bi,” is all he says, not quietly, but just loud enough so only their table can hear.

“Called it,” the boy Frank thinks is called Pete says immediately, and burps. Gee smacks his arm.

“Pete Wentz, you’re an asshole,” they say. Pete just laughs, and blows bubbles in his milk.

Conversations start up again. Brendon goes back to talking to Frank excitedly with his hands about a science project he and Patrick are working on, and Frank thinks, yeah, maybe this school will be good for him.


	2. II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im not used to writing chapters at all bc the fic ive been working on rly just KEEPS GOING chapter-free, so this just. it was so difficult to find a proper ending point hhh

They have ice cream for dessert, a wide variety of flavours, and Frank gets introduced to Mr Humphrey, who simply wishes him luck and sends the rest of the group a very pointed look. Nobody except Frank seems to notice, though, which is kind of funny, because Mr Humphrey is a very large man who looks rather mean (Gee had assured Frank earlier that he’s one of the nicest adults at the school, but Frank still isn’t sure).

Spencer and Brendon disappear before everyone else. Frank’s half sure they went off to make-out somewhere, but then they come back a few minutes later (or maybe it was more? time is irrelevant and Frank doesn’t really care) with a girl with black hair in pigtails who’s taken more than a few artistic liberties with the uniform.

“Hi, I’m Lyndsey,” she says, brushes a stray strand of hair from her eyes, and sticks out her hand. Frank shakes it. “You’re rooming with Gee, right?”

“You don’t have to be so formal, Lynz,” Brendon says, rolling his eyes.

Lyndsey rolls her eyes back in a more exaggerated fashion. “I don’t want to come off as rude,” she says. “Also, being polite makes it easier to judge a person, I guess.” The last part sounds more like a question than a statement. “Anyway, yeah, hi, I’m Lyndsey, but you can just call me Lynz, ‘cause that’s what everyone does. I’m dating Gee.” She pauses, then, “Kind of. It’s complicated. Actually, no, scratch that last part, I’ll get back to you on whether we’re dating or not eventually.” Frank is a little overwhelmed and lost, but he nods to let Lyndsey know he’s listening. “I’m roommates with Brendon.”

She smiles then, and the pause between words goes on for long enough that Frank realises he was supposed to respond. “Oh,” he says, and, “Yeah, uh, I’m Frank? I’m not really dating anyone, I don’t think?”

“That’s cool,” Lyndsey says. She’s clearly much more relaxed than Frank is.

Frank’s about to ask Lyndsey how long she’s been at Outré, but then Gee walks over and Lynz’s attention is immediately torn away from Frank. Spencer and Brendon share a knowing look.

“Come on,” Brendon says, resting a hand gently on the small of Frank’s back. “Once they start talking, there’s no going back.”

Frank lets himself be pulled away toward the doors of the mess hall. “Oh, are we going?”

Spencer shrugs. “Everyone else kind of left while you and Lynz were chatting,” he says. “Besides, have you even seen past the second floor?” When Frank shakes his head, Spencer says, “Exactly. Ray and I are on the top floor. The stairs are annoying, but we have secret snacks, and I don’t think Ray would mind if you had some.”

It’s not like Frank’s going to protest free secret snacks, even if he did just finish eating dinner. Plus, he likes Spencer and Brendon so far; they seem like nice guys. Frank didn’t exactly expect to make friends here, especially not this quickly. It’s a nice change from his previous fantasies about Outré.

The walk back to the dorms seems faster now that Frank isn’t hungry anymore. He tries to appreciate the scenery a little bit more, tries to figure out what trees line the stone paths, but he’s inevitably distracted by Spencer and Brendon, who don’t seem to care that Frank is right behind them and continue to hold hands and lean on each other. Frank’s glad they’re that comfortable to be able to do that in front of a guy they just met.

“I wish I could sleep here,” Brendon says as Spencer unlocks the front door to the dormitory.

Spencer says, “You say this every night,” but then he smiles down at Brendon sadly, and Frank feels like he’s intruding.

Brendon doesn’t seem to notice the way Spencer’s looking at him, and as the lock clicks, he shoves the front door open roughly. “Yeah,” he says, turns around to beckon Frank and Spencer inside. “That’s because it’s relevant every night.”

“Yeah.” Spencer doesn’t say anything else.

Frank feels bad, still, like he shouldn’t be here.

Brendon catches on just from looking at the two of them. “Jesus, you guys, can we just go eat secret attic snacks? You’re depressing the hell out of me.” Then he turns and heads for the stairs.

By the time Frank and Spencer reach the base of the steps, Brendon’s already two floors up. Frank starts climbing up the stairs, and Spencer sighs, says, “Sometimes I feel like a bad boyfriend.”

Frank pauses and turns. “Why’s that?”

“Fuck, I’m sorry, I barely know you,” and Spencer laughs. “I shouldn’t dump this on you, I’m sorry.” There’s a pause, and Frank knows they’re both thinking the same thing. He’s about to open his mouth to tell Spencer he doesn’t mind, but then Spencer continues, “I think I just say the wrong things a lot, or take things too seriously. I don’t know. I should probably talk to Gee about this instead, though, huh?”

Frank just shrugs.

“Let’s get attic snacks!” Brendon yells down the stairs. “Fucking old men, hurry up!”

Frank turns back around and walks up the stairs.

xxx

“Okay,” Brendon says, and gives Frank no time to take in the room. “There’s cheezits, snickerdoodles Lyndsey made last week, and chocolate-covered gummi bears. And Coke. Take your pick.”

Frank stares down into the clear plastic bin Brendon is holding out to him. Apparently he’s taking too long to decide, because Spencer pushes past him gently to take a handful of the snickerdoodles. “Try the gummi bears, they’re better than they sound,” he tells Frank around a mouthful of cookie.

Frank decides not to do that and takes the box of cheezits and a Coke. Spencer looks a little disappointed that Frank didn’t take his suggestion, but maybe Spencer should have taken the gummi bears himself if he likes them so much.

"I wonder wear Ray is,” Brendon wonders aloud as he pops the tab on his soda. "I mean, his loss, more for us, all that shit, but it’s still his food.”

Spencer shrugs, Frank opens the box of name brand cheese crackers. “Probably with Patrick or something,” Spencer says, and Brendon snorts, coughs as he chokes on his Coke.

Frank looks between them, confused. “Wait, are they dating, or?”

“See, they say they aren’t, but that’s a fucking lie,” Spencer says, and then, “Don’t tell anyone I said that. Ray’ll kill me.”

“So, they are dating, then?”

Brendon shrugs. “Honestly, I don’t think even they know if they’re dating or not,” he says, a little more serious than Spencer had been. “They act like they are, I guess, but I think they’re just stupid. Patrick thinks Ray sees him as a brother,” he says, taking another sip of Coke.

Spencer chokes. “You’re kidding me.”

“God, I wish,” Brendon says with an over dramatic groan. “Every time we hang out it’s, ‘Oh, I wish Ray liked me back,’ and, ‘How can I get Ray to be more interested in me’. And listen, I love Patrick, but he needs to get his shit together because Ray’s right there making eyes at him! I think he should get his glasses prescription changed.”

Frank listens to the two boys complain about Ray and Patrick’s obliviousness until his soda is gone. Then he stands up, thanks them for the snacks, and heads back downstairs to him and Gee’s room.

Gee’s already under the covers of their bed, doing something on their phone. They glance up when Frank walks in.

“Dude, where did you go?” they ask.

Frank finds a pair of sweats in his bag and an old t-shirt, and changes while answering. “Spencer has secret attic snacks in his room,” he says. “He and Brendon gave me some.”

“Damn, you’ve got to be something special, then, because the attic snacks are super exclusive,” is all Gee says in response.

Frank plays stupid games on his phone for the rest of the evening, and when Gee turns off the light and rolls over in their bed to go to sleep, he tries not to listen to the noises of the house.

The problem is, the house is so damn loud.

It’s raining outside, and the wood creaks loudly. Frank does his best to block it out, but to no avail, and when the clock on the bedside table flickers to 12:47, Frank is still awake.

“Fuck,” he whispers. “Gee?”

Gee does not respond. Frank doesn’t know why he thought they would; they’re used to sleeping here, used to the noises and being away from home.

Frank thinks about rolling over and trying to fall asleep again, but going downstairs to get a glass of water or juice sounds better.

He slips out the door of he and Gee’s room, tries to make his way down the steps without making too much noise. Frank’s not sure if he’s technically even allowed to be up and about right now, at nearly one in the morning.

Apparently, though, he’s not the only one who can’t sleep.

When Frank steps into the kitchen, the first thing he sees is one of the boys he doesn’t know yet, sitting at the table and drinking tea, writing in notebook. He looks tired, anxious, wavy brown hair hanging in front of his eyes as he scribbles things down in the notebook. Frank decides to not say anything and just get his juice.

He searches the cabinets until he finds a glass, then gets apple juice from the fridge.

“That’s expired.”

Frank almost jumps at the sudden voice. He turns around after setting the apple juice on the counter. "What?”

"Expired,” the boy says again, still looking at his notebook and writing. "That juice hasn’t been good for two weeks. I’m Ryan, by the way. I didn't get to introduce myself earlier. You’re rooming with Gee?”’

“Uh, yeah,” Frank says.

Ryan keeps writing, not looking up. “I’m with Jon, across the hall from you guys.”

“Why hasn’t anyone thrown this out?” Frank asks. “If it’s been expired for two weeks, I mean.”

Ryan shrugs, sets his pen down and looks up at Frank. “That’s not really how things work around here,” he says. “If you didn’t buy it, don’t throw it out. It doesn’t matter if it’s bad or whatever. If Pete wants to drink old juice, he can damn well drink his old juice.” Then, “Why are you up so late, anyway?”

“Why are you up so late?” Frank counters. When Ryan doesn’t answer, he sighs and says, “I can’t sleep. It’s loud.”

“You get used to it,” Ryan tells him as he slides off his chair at the table and stretches, allowing Frank to really get a good look at him.

Ryan’s tall, and thin, with veiny hands and bony fingers. His face looks soft, and his hair is wet, so he probably showered some time in the past couple of hours. That, or he was out in the rain. He’s wearing sweatpants and a baggy t-shirt that looks like it must have belonged to someone nearly as tall as Ray. Frank’s not going to lie, Ryan’s pretty hot. Definitely a guy Frank would go for, if Ryan weren’t already dating Jon.

Frank watches Ryan walk towards him, feels his heartbeat speed up, and God damn it, he can’t have a crush on a boy he fucking met two minutes ago. Then Ryan opens the fridge and retrieves a pack of juice boxes, and Frank’s heart slows back down. God, he’s a fucking idiot.

“These aren’t bad,” Ryan says after checking the label on the apple juice boxes. “Personally, I like them better than whatever Pete buys, but everyone else hates these, so I guess it’s kind of a gamble whether you’d like them or not.”

Bad juice is better than no juice, so Frank takes a juice box and says “Thank you”.

It actually isn’t bad, Frank thinks, leaning his back against the counter as he and Ryan sip on their juice boxes together. Outside, thunder rolls, and Frank remember why he’s still awake. “How’d you get used to this place?” Frank asks.

Ryan is not much help. He just shrugs and says, “I can’t remember; I’ve gone here since third grade. Find someone to sleep with, maybe?”

That’s not very helpful. “I think I’ll manage,” Frank says.

He immediately regrets it when Ryan shrugs again and says, “Suit yourself. You’d be welcome to share a bed with me and Jon until you get used to it. It’s pretty loud here, that’s understandable. Gee’s good company, though. Do you like them?”

“Yes,” Frank says. “They’re very sweet.”

They stand for a moment, quietly. Frank feels awkward and out of place, but Ryan looks like he isn’t uncomfortable at all. He just sips his juice, and when it’s gone, throws out the empty box and bids Frank a goodnight, grabbing his notebook on his way to the stairs.

“God,” Frank whispers and puts the heel of his hand to his forehead.

The rain outside is still going as hard as ever, and it’s giving him a bit of a headache. Frank finds the bathroom and searches the cabinet until he finds Advil. He takes two with the rest of his juice box and then heads back upstairs. It’s promising to be a long, long night.

xxx

He wakes up to an alarm at seven thirty in the morning. Frank groans and presses his palms into his closed eyes, the remnants of sleep slowly fading.

“Dallon’s making waffles,” Gee says. “If you want some you’d better hurry up and get dressed.”

Frank cracks open an eye to see Gee tugging on a sock and standing on one foot. He groans again and almost rolls over to go back to sleep, but then Gee grabs his arm and yanks, and Frank almost falls out of the bed.

“Waffles,” Gee says again. “They probably have pancakes and fruit salad in the dining hall if you want to wait, but Dallon’s waffles are like heaven. Sweet, fluffy, cakey heaven. He’s probably only cooking because you’re new, anyway, so it’d be stupid not to get up.”

Frank, not wanting Dallon to think he doesn’t appreciate his cooking even though they haven’t really met, groans again and untangles himself from the blankets. “Are they good waffles?” he asks.

Gee gives him a worried look. “Did I not just call them heavenly?” they say. “They’re fucking delicious. Put on some clothes and come downstairs.”

With that, they exit the room, the door shutting less than quietly.

Frank rolls out of bed and inspects the uniform that’s been lain out for him on a chair over the night. It’s kind of gross-looking, black and red and white. Slacks, dress shirt, blazer, tie. At least there isn’t any kind of a dress code for shoes. Frank knows that for certain because Jon was wearing flip flops the other day which would never fly at his old school.

The clothes fit surprisingly well, although the shirt collar is a bit scratchy. Frank tries not to think about his itchy neck too much as he walks downstairs.

Gee definitely wasn’t exaggerating about the waffles. The kitchen smells amazing. Only a few people are dressed and at the table, and Frank knows all of them except the boy with long dirty-blond hair. His uniform hangs a bit on his bony figure.

Frank finds a seat between Patrick and Spencer and sits down just as Dallon, who was previously working with a bad-looking waffle iron, turns around and sets a good-sized plate of waffles down in the middle of the table.

Nobody takes anything, which is fairly confusing to Frank, seeing as how much Gee played up these waffles earlier. Then Gee kicks his shin under the table and says, “We’re waiting for you.”

Which, yeah, that makes sense, because according to Gee, Frank was the reason Dallon had made waffles in the first place. He takes two waffles onto his plate, covers them in cut-up strawberries and syrup.

And they’re fucking good.

There’s applause when Frank gives Dallon a thumbs-up, his mouth still full of fluffy, sticky waffles and fruit. Frank swallows, downs half a glass of orange juice, and then almost chokes when someone slaps him hard on the back.

“Gabe,” Gee says, glaring at whoever is behind Frank with a look that could kill. “He got here yesterday. Please do not kill my new roommate.”

“Anything for you, princess,” the person behind Frank, assumedly Gabe, says.

Gee flips him off and takes waffles for themself.

xxx

After breakfast, Gee takes another quick look at Frank’s schedule. He has statistics first thing, for some godforsaken reason. Gee introduces him to William - “Bill is fine” - who apparently has stats at the same time, and then they disappear to do God knows what, leaving Frank alone with somebody that he’s known for about thirty seconds.

“I room with Gabe,” Bill says, and Frank nods, wondering how someone who appears so calm could possible handle the Gabe he met in the kitchen earlier. “He’s a bit of a hassle, but I love him,” Bill continues. He smiles, all teeth, and his eyes crinkle up when he says that.

Frank thinks, Oh, yes, I almost forgot that everyone here is gay and apparently in love. It’s a little bitter, especially since Frank had to leave his now-ex boyfriend behind in New Jersey when he moved to New York for this school. Neither of them had wanted to break it off, but while the internet really is a wonderful thing, long distance is still difficult. The breakup was for the best, anyway; Frank could tell (or at least thought he could tell) that James was getting disinterested.

“Yeah, he sounds wild,” Frank says, pushing down the bittersweet memories of New Jersey. “Where’s this class, anyway?”

William groans, although it’s more breathy than anything. “It’s, like, way on the other side of campus,” he says. “Inconvenient, and not worth it. I had history in the same building last year, same time, too. But Sisky’s pretty cool, he brought us coffee pretty much every morning. Good coffee, too; nothing like the shit Andy buys.”

“That’s fair,” one of the boys from breakfast who Frank doesn’t know yet says on his way past them to the front door. “I just grab whatever’s cheapest.”

“You’re the reason the economy is failing, Hurley!” Pete calls from the kitchen. “Global warming is your fault!”

“That’s fair,” the boy from before repeats. Frank guesses that this is Andy. He reaches the door, pauses, then shouts, “Mikey, you’re going to be late for English!”

Frank stops listening to the million other conversations going on when William puts a hand on Frank’s shoulder and says, “Really, though, we should get going.”

xxx

Stats here is almost as bad as it was at Frank’s old school. He says ‘almost’ because here, Frank’s class is maybe thirteen kids, and the teacher apparently throws peanuts outside to feed squirrels.

“He’s nice,” William says when Frank points this out, “but he’s not coffee nice.”

They get two pages of homework, and Frank already wants to die. At least Sarah, who sits across from Frank and knows Brendon, promises to help Frank and Bill out with it. Neither of them know what the fuck is going on, but Sarah seems to. Plus, she’s nice and pretty; Frank trusts her.

Frank has English next, which is, once again, in a very inconvenient place from where they are now. William gives him a couple of vague instructions and then heads off to his own class, leaving Frank a little in the dark.

Thankfully Ryan, who has history in the same building, is there to help. “Small world,” he says as he leads Frank across the campus to their shared English class.

English is worlds better than statistics could ever hope to be.

Frank knows that much just from walking into the classroom.

“We’re doing Shakespeare,” Ryan tells him, but that doesn’t even need to be said. The teacher, whose name is neither on the door nor Frank’s actual schedule, is dressed in full late-1500s garb, wig and all. Frank is immediately concerned.

He welcomes Frank in the worst British accent Frank has ever heard. “Welcome! You must be our new victim!”

“That’s Scorpio appropriation,” Ryan says blandly, and pulls Frank over to sit down next to him at one other desks. “I am so sorry, he is terrible.”

Frank glances at the teacher again over his shoulder. “I don’t know,” he says, watching the man greet every entering student with the same accent and edgy phrases. “I kind of like him.”

“Oh, God,” Ryan says. “Not you, too.”

xxx

The rest of Frank’s classes are unnotable. He has history with Gee, Pete, and Brendon, French with Gee’s brother, Mikey, and chemistry with Gabe and a boy called Travie, who Gabe introduces as Bill’s side-hoe. This results in an argument on who William’s real side-hoe is, and Frank decides he wants no part in this and moves to sit next to a nice-looking girl named Breezy.

He skips lunch, too anxious about his first day of classes to feel well enough to eat, and Frank almost skips dinner, too, but Gee drags him out of their bedroom and forces Frank downstairs, out the door, and toward the dining hall.

“You are being unnecessarily difficult,” Gee says with a grunt, practically pulling Frank along in the dirt behind them. “If you would walk, we would be eating by now.”

“I was napping,” Frank whines, but he complies anyway and follows Gee into the dining hall on begrudging feet.

Dinner that night is a choice between roast beef and potatoes, and a salad bar. Frank is very hesitant at first, but the ‘salad bar’ turns out to be a fucking gourmet salad buffet. He’s pretty sure some of the things here would make the word ‘salad’ void if he put them on lettuce.

Gee questions him about his classes all through dinner, skipping over the massive history project they were just assigned because yes, that is not important at all. Frank wonders if they’re ever going to get around to doing that, since it’s due next Wednesday but Gee showed no interest in it when they’d gotten back to the dorm after classes were over.

After dinner is more hectic tonight than it was yesterday, and Frank barely manages to keep up, what with everyone splitting off into different groups and going their own ways. Frank sticks with Pete and Ryan, even though he doesn’t know either of them very well. They kind of just pull him into their conversation, and Frank has no desire to get out.

“Maybe,” Pete says, “we could pull it off tonight.”

“You’ve been saying this every Friday since seventh grade,” Ryan says, his voice tinted with exasperation. “Your bonfire is never going to happen. Mr Humphrey knows all your tricks by now.”

“Yes,” Pete says, rolling his eyes, “but we have a secret weapon this time.” He not-so-subtly jerks his head in Frank’s direction.

“Oh, no,” says Frank.

“Oh, yes,” says Pete.


	3. III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im gonna b changing the point of view between chapters just bc it. gets kinda borin just writin for one person all the time? this chapters on ryan

Ryan says he disagrees with Pete’s plan, but since he helped come up with it, he can’t not help out with it. Besides, a bonfire is a bonfire, and it’s late September already; they won’t be able to try again until April. The plan is dodgy, but Pete’s right, and they do have Frank this time.

Pete is going to talk to Mr Humphrey and uncharacteristically attempt to get help on his Spanish homework. Whether or not Mr Humphrey actually complies doesn’t matter, because the rest of Pete’s part of the plan (which is written in sloppy handwriting on a napkin) just says Annoy the fuck out of him.)

Then Ryan’s going to help Frank get enough wood into the unused firepit to start a bonfire.

“That’s where it gets tricky,” Pete says, frowning. “I’ve already had my lighter confiscated this year, and I haven’t been able to get another one yet. Nobody in our dorm is willing to lend me one, either. So basically, what I’m asking is, do you have a lighter?”

“Kind of? I have matches,” Frank says.

Pete nods somewhat grimly “They will have to do,” he says. “Okay, Ryan, once it’s lit, you’re in charge of stealing marshmallows from the attic stash.”

“Why,” Ryan asks, “is that my job?”

“You and Spencer have been besties since diapers,” Pete explains, the ‘duh’ silent but obvious. “He’s not going to question you going up to his room. Me or Frank? We’d get our asses kicked.”

“Actually, Spencer gave me attic snacks yesterday,” Frank interjects, and Pete suddenly looks heartbroken.

He shakes it off quickly, though, and pins their plan to the wall of beside Pete’s bed with a tack. “Okay, Operation: BF is a go.”

“Boyfriend? Operation boyfriend?” Ryan asks with a snort.

“No,” says Pete, putting his hands on his hips. “BF stands for bonfire, Ryan Ross, not boyfriend. I don’t have those..”

“What, so you’re not dating Andy?” Ryan teases, and Pete pouts, his cheeks turning darker.

“Anyway,” Pete says pointedly, not answering Ryan’s question, “I’m going to go find Humphrey. You guys, uh, good luck with everything else.” He gives Ryan and Frank a two-fingered salute, then disappears into the dorm.

After a moment, Frank blinks and looks at Ryan. “So, he’s serious then?”

Ryan just shrugs, because really, you never know when it comes to Pete Wentz.

“Come on,” he says, “I’m sure there’s wood around here somewhere.”

“There’s wood literally everywhere,” Frank points out, gesturing at the abundance of trees growing around the building.

“Wood on the ground,” Ryan says. “I don’t have to kill trees for Pete’s stupid fire bullshit. If they’re already dead, great, that’s fine, but I’m not cutting one down for a plan that probably won’t work.”

He starts walking away from the building, toward the fire pit that’s gone unused since Ryan was in fourth grade. He can’t recall why they stopped, but Ryan has a hunch that it probably had to do with Pete.

Ryan isn’t walking that fast, but his legs are much longer than Frank’s, who is trailing behind as he tries to keep up.

“Where’s the pit thing?” Frank calls from behind.

“I’m trying to remember,” Ryan says over his shoulder, and then almost bumps into a very flustered-looking Jon.

“Shit,” says Jon, then grins when he realises that it’s Ryan. “I’ve been looking all over for you! Where’ve you been? You and Pete and the new kid disappeared right after dinner.”

“We just left the house,” Ryan explains as Frank catches up, his breathing a bit laboured. “Pete’s pulling one of his stupid bonfire things again. Frank’s helping.”

“Ah.” Jon nods in understanding. “Anything I can do to help?”

Ryan shrugs. “You can help us get wood, if you want.”

“Okay!”

And that’s how the three of them end up wandering the woods, looking for fallen sticks and crunchy leaves to light the fire with.

Ryan manages to find a small tree that fell over during the summer that nobody had bothered to clean up. He strips the branches that he can from the trunk, then turns around and heads back to where Frank and Jon had split off to look for wood of their own. On his way over, he starts pulling the smaller stick and twigs off of the larger sticks.

Jon and Frank have left the path. Ryan sets his pile of sticks down at the roots of an oak tree and doesn’t yell when something hits him in the back of the head. Instead he stands up like a proper gentleman and asks very loudly who the fuck threw their shoe at him.

“Fuck! Sorry!”

Frank’s voice comes from over Ryan’s head. Ryan looks up to see the smaller boy staring down at him from a branch with wide eyes. “I didn’t see you there.”

“What are you doing up there?” Ryan asks, picking Frank’s shoe off the ground and throwing it up to him.

“Getting wood,” Frank says matter of factly, catching his shoe with one hand and slipping it back onto his foot. “I thought it’d be easier to come up here and pull off sticks instead of going down there.” He looks at Ryan’s nice pile of wood. “Looks like you had good luck.”

“Yes,” says Ryan. “And I didn’t have to climb a tree and throw my shoes to get it.”

Frank scowls. “I did not throw my shoe at you, it fell off,” he says. He grabs the sticks he’s ripped off the poor tree and hops down, wincing when he lands sharply on his feet. “Where’s Jon?”

Ryan just shrugs. “I thought he was with you?”

“Whom was with whom’st’d’ve?”

Ryan and Frank turn at the same time to see Jon carrying an armful of logs and sticks, grinning.

“Is this enough?” Frank asks.

Ryan shrugs. “Pete will be pleased, I guess,” he says, and picks his wood back up off of the ground. “We should start heading back now, though; it’s getting dark already and we don’t want to be caught outside so far away from our dorm this late.”

They walk back together, Frank humming under his breath and Jon purposely bumping his shoulder into Ryan’s. The sun is setting more quickly than he expected, and Ryan wonders just what time it is. He didn’t check before they left, so it could be nine for all they know.

Back behind the house, Pete is kicking rocks around the fire pit. He looks up and grins when the three approach.

“Wood!” he says loudly, and Ryan rolls his eyes.

“Wow thanks, I had no idea what I was carrying until now. Thanks, Pete,” he says blandly.

Pete scowls. “Well, somebody doesn’t want marshmallows.”

“That’s okay,” says Ryan. “Jon will get me some. Do you even have marshmallows?”

“Brendon’s bringing them,” says Pete, and then the topic is dropped. “So, I got the lighter, and I told Spencer, so he’s telling everyone else. I don’t think anyone but our dorm is coming, but Brendon might bring someone. Travie might show up, because they always know when something’s going down, somehow. They’re a mystery.”

Ryan notices Frank’s furrowed eyebrows and says, “Travie’s agender. Kind of like Gee, I guess, except they don’t even have a gender.”

“That’s cool,” Frank says.

Pete stares at the three of them for a moment, then starts gesturing wildly with his hands. “Set! Set up the fire!”

“Jesus,” Ryan grumbles, but doesn’t object.

He helps Jon lay the logs out, then piles on the larger sticks, then the smaller ones. They grab dried leaves and grass off of the ground and piles them on and around the wood as fire starters.

Ryan steps back as Pete bends down, clicking the lighter until the fire starts to catch on the leaves and sticks. It doesn’t take long before the stone pit is bright and alive with fire.

“Fuck, yeah!” Pete shouts, then remembers that they aren’t supposed to be doing this. “Fuck, yeah,” he says, but quieter this time.

“Now we just have to wait for Brendon and everyone else,” Jon says and sits himself down on the grass. Ryan sits next to him and rests his head on Jon’s shoulder.

They sit cuddling beside the warm fire for a while, and when the sun finally sets, Pete and Frank sit down together and press close into each other’s sides for warmth. It’s cold out for early autumn.

Finally, after what feels like an hour, Ryan hears footsteps crunching in the leaves behind him. He doesn’t look up when Dallon sits himself down on his other side.

“Brendon’s coming with marshmallows soon,” Jon says, and Dallon nods, hums affirmingly.

Ryan sighs and pressed his face into Jon’s neck.

Eventually more people turn up. Brendon arrives with Spencer in tow. They’re shortly followed by Travie, who soon gets caught up in a conversation with Frank and the newly arrived Gee and Lynz. Gabe and Bill come, too, even though Ryan was convinced they’d rather stay holed up in their room making out where nobody could get to them. It looks like Bill dragged Gabe out here, though.

“Do we have sticks for the marshmallows?” Brendon asks, and he rips open the bag before he gets a response.

“No,” says Ryan, “but I’m sure somebody wouldn’t mind getting some?”

Everyone turns to look at Mikey, who’s standing behind Joe and playing with his hair. “Fine,” he says. “I’ll get your sticks. But I’m not having marshmallows because I already feel sick from dinner.”

Brendon grins and pats Mikey on the back. “Attaboy, Mikes! You’ll be back before you know it.”

Mikey just grunts and turns away to find marshmallow-roasting sticks.

When he returns, Jon takes the stick with a forked end so he can make two marshmallows at once, one for him and one for Ryan. Ryan is eternally grateful.

Ryan catches Frank shooting looks over at he and Jon, but doesn’t think anything of it; Frank’s new. He’s bound to be curious about his new housemates’ relationships. What better way for him to learn about those than by seeing them with his own eyes.

“We should go inside soon,” Ryan says when the moon has been visible for quite a while. His teeth and tongue are sticky with marshmallow, and Jon has a bit on the tip of his nose. “It’s getting cold. Plus, I’m surprised Mr Humphrey hasn’t come to shut us down yet.”

Jon nods and untangles himself from Ryan. He stands up and pulls Ryan to his feet by his wrists. “We’re turning in,” Jon says, addressing the crowd. “We’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Good night,” Ryan says softly. He doesn’t really glance at everyone, just turns around and leans into Jon as they walk back to the house.

Mr Humphrey is at the kitchen table, eating cheese and crackers. He looks up when Ryan and Jon walk inside.

“You know, I really don’t care if you guys have fires,” he says. “Just don’t burn the whole campus down. And don’t stay out too late.”

Ryan nods, but doesn’t really pay attention to what the man’s saying.

He lets Jon lead him upstairs to their room, and then flops down face first on the bed they actually use. “I’m so tired,” Ryan says, “I could sleep for a month.”

Jon just laughs and sits on the edge of the bed next to Ryan’s feet. “Does that mean I’m getting kicked out?”

“No,” Ryan says immediately. “No, don’t you dare. I need you to stay warm. Please.”

“Then get under the covers and stop complaining,” Jon says.

Ryan grumbles, but he gets off the bed and quickly strips down to his underwear, replacing his t-shirt with a soft tank top. Jon is already in bed, snuggled up beneath the blankets with his head buried between two pillows, when Ryan turns back around.

He climbs in beside his boyfriend and turns off the lamp on the bedside table.

“Good night,” Jon says, and captures Ryan’s lips in a quick kiss. “I love you.”

“That’s gay,” says Ryan.

“I know.”

xxx

In the morning, Ryan decides that he doesn’t want to leave his room all day. He’s warm and cosy curled up next to Jon. There isn’t much point in moving, anyway; they have snacks and water in their room. It’s not like they’ll starve or something if they don’t get out of bed.

Then Jon wakes up and ruins Ryan’s perfect plans for a lazy, stay-in-bed day.

“I have to pee,” he says.

“That’s gross,” says Ryan. “Go do that in the bathroom.”

Jon climbs over him to get out of the bed, cursing when he trips on one of Ryan’s shoes, which are scattered carelessly across the floor. “We need to clean,” Jon says, and then slips out of the room to use the bathroom down the hall.

Ryan groans at the thought of cleaning their disgustingly messy room. It’s true, they really do need to clean. They’ve been putting it off since the start of the school year, claiming they’ll do it next week every single weekend. But if it’s gotten to the point where Jon of all people is tripping on things that are left on the floor, then clean they must.

Ryan drags himself out of bed and pulls on a pair of cleanish-looking pyjama pants he finds lying on the floor next to a pair of boxers and three socks, none of which match each other. He really hopes these are clean.

When Jon gets back, Ryan is already tossing all of their dirty clothes into a pile beside the door. “God, we really need a laundry basket,” Jon says, sending a dirty look at the slowly growing pile of clothes.

Ryan grunts in response. What they need is to not be so messy all of the time, but he doesn’t say that out loud. They’re teenage boys; messes are to be expected.

“Gee says they’re gonna order Chinese food for dinner,” Jon continues, and starts balling up papers on the floor, tossing them into their trash bin. “Do you want lo mein, or something else?”

“No, that’s fine,” Ryan says. He picks up a last couple of socks and asks, “Do you want me to take care of the laundry now, or later?”

Jon shrugs. “Whatever you wanna do. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Now, then,” Ryan decides. He bundles up the pile of dirty clothes in his arms and slips out of their room and downstairs.

A group of his friends are gathered in the living room, playing Uno. If he weren’t so tired, Ryan might ask Jon if he wanted to join when they were done cleaning. Uno gets very hectic with their friends; they play with a ton of house rules, none of which are explained to anyone. You just have to figure them out as you go along. And, of course, cheating is tolerated and encouraged.

Surprisingly, Brendon isn’t there. Ryan thinks he must be busy doing homework with Lyndsey, or studying for their upcoming Bio test. Ryan would study for that, but he’s not really a studying kind of guy.

The laundry room is in the basement, which is a huge reason why they let their dirty clothes just pile up.

The basement is moist. It’s the only part of the house that wasn’t remodeled for the school. There’s no floor as far as Ryan can tell, just dirt, and the walls are made of rough stone. There’s only one light bulb, controlled with a long string that hangs from the ceiling. The light is too dim to see much.

On the wall furthest from the foot of the stairs is the washer and dryer. Those, at least, are new. They’re attached to pipes and cables that line the walls, the pipes going to the water heater next to the stairs and the cords going upstairs to where the electricity is.

Ryan shivers as the door at the top of the stairs slams shut. He always forgets to wear shoes down here.

He stuffs the laundry into the washing machine as quickly as he can, starts it up, then runs back upstairs. The door slams shut behind him.

“Jesus, Ryan, I know it’s disgusting down there, but relax a little.”

Gabe is sitting in the kitchen eating a cold poptart. Ryan glares at him but doesn’t respond. Instead, he heads back upstairs to help Jon finish the tidying up.

“You’re socks are dirty,” Jon says as soon as Ryan walks back into their room. Jon hadn’t even looked up from where he’s sitting on the unused bed, reading something on his phone.

Ryan walks over to him and peels off his dirt-caked socks. “Yeah, well.” He sits next to Jon on the bed and leans his back against the wall. “You can do the laundry next time if you want to complain about my dirty socks. There’s no floor down there.”

“I know,” Jon says, but he doesn’t argue. “Did you see the new guy? Or is he a late sleeper?”

“I don’t know,” Ryan says. “I didn’t see him downstairs, but I know he was up in the attic room the other night, so he could be anywhere at this point.”

“Are you talking about Frank?”

Both Ryan and Jon look up at Gee, who’s poking their head through the doorway. They look like they haven’t slept - or showered - in days.

Taking their silence as confirmation, Gee continues, “Yeah, he’s still sleeping. Pete and I tried to wake him up, like, fifteen minutes ago, but he’s out like a light. You’d think someone with such endless energy wouldn’t need to sleep at all. Weekends do that to us, I guess. What are you guys up to?”

Ryan says, “Cleaning,” at the same time that Jon says, “Nothing”.

Gee frowns. “Okay,” they say. “I’m gonna go have poptarts. Do you want me to bring you anything?”

“No,” says Jon, “we have snacks and stuff up here. Thanks, though.”

Gee just nods and disappears behind the door.

Ryan groans and turns so he’s lying on his side lengthwise, his chest up against Jon’s ass. “I’m so tired,” he complains. “I’m going back to sleep. Wake me when you decide to do something interesting.”

Jon just ruffles Ryan’s hair and doesn’t look up from whatever he’s doing.

Ryan sighs. His intention wasn’t for Jon to actually accept that he wanted to sleep some more. “Actually,” he says, and sits up abruptly, “I’m going to go upstairs and see if Ray’s awake. He always has fun stuff to do. If you want me, you know where to find me.”

“Okay,” Jon says quietly, and doesn’t protest as Ryan leaves.

Once he’s outside their room, Ryan sighs and slumps against the wall of the hallway. He knows Ray - and anyone else even remotely interesting - is still sleeping right now. It’s going to be a long day by himself.


End file.
